


The Gathering Darkness

by darkavengerz (darkavenger)



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Destiny (Video Game), Punisher (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-20
Updated: 2014-12-20
Packaged: 2018-03-02 12:12:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2811569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkavenger/pseuds/darkavengerz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Omnigul,” Murdock says, rolling the name in his mouth, “one of Crota’s generals. She won’t go down easily.”</p><p>“I’ve killed Wizards before.”</p><p>“Not like her,” Murdock says darkly, “and there’s an army of Hive between us and her.”</p><p>Frank checks the doorway again. Four or five Fallen, he’d say at a guess. “You looking to team up?” he asks, taking careful aim.</p><p>Murdock shrugs, and Frank can read in the movement some of the his own aversion to the concept of teamwork, “I’m saying it might be necessary.”</p><p>“Fine,” Frank says, squeezing down on the trigger. A shot fires, and he grunts in satisfaction as he sees one of the shadowy figures fall. The movement inside the doorway increases and he watches as a Dreg dashes stupidly into the open before picking it off. “So long as you don’t expect me to carry you through this, Hunter.” He laces the last word with a certain amount of contempt.</p><p>Murdock chuckles, apparently unoffended by Frank’s implied slur against hs class. “Fine,” he agrees, voice faintly mocking, “so long as you can keep up, Titan.” And then he darts ahead, disappearing from sight briefly only to reappear several metres ahead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gathering Darkness

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CanAm77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CanAm77/gifts).



> For CanAm77, based on your ideas, happy birthday! I hope this is okay.

“Castle,” the voice comes from above. Frank sees a dark shadow drop from the corner of his eye.

“Murdock,” he acknowledges, tilting his head slightly in greeting. He doesn’t turn, keeping his eyes fixed ahead of him as he scrutinises the entrance to the building. Within the darkness of the doorway, he can see things moving. Probably some stray Fallen; the Hive don’t tend to venture this close to the surface, at least not in daytime. His lip curls in distaste; of all the enemies that crawl the surface of the Earth, he hates the Hive the most.

“Eris send you?” Murdock inquires, tone pleasant.

This time Frank actually turns to look at the other Guardian. In the bright sunlight, the red of the Hunter’s costume looks garish, but Frank knows that the dark will turn the colour sinister. That, and the devil horns that jut from the man’s helmet stop the costume from looking clownish, despite what Frank might say occasionally when their paths cross. “Bounty on some wizard,” he says, drawing his primary, “I’m here to collect.”

“Omnigul,” Murdock says, rolling the name in his mouth, “one of Crota’s generals. She won’t go down easily.”

“I’ve killed Wizards before.”

“Not like her,” Murdock says darkly, “and there’s an army of Hive between us and her.”

Frank checks the doorway again. Four or five Fallen, he’d say at a guess. “You looking to team up?” he asks, taking careful aim.

Murdock shrugs, and Frank can read in the movement some of the his own aversion to the concept of teamwork, “I’m saying it might be necessary.”

“Fine,” Frank says, squeezing down on the trigger. A shot fires, and he grunts in satisfaction as he sees one of the shadowy figures fall. The movement inside the doorway increases and he watches as a Dreg dashes stupidly into the open before picking it off. “So long as you don’t expect me to carry you through this, Hunter.” He laces the last word with a certain amount of contempt.

Murdock chuckles, apparently unoffended by Frank’s implied slur against hs class. “Fine,” he agrees, voice faintly mocking, “so long as you can keep up, Titan.” And then he darts ahead, disappearing from sight briefly only to reappear several metres ahead.

Frank checks his gun once more, then follows, moving with a steady, slower lope. “Hate it when they do that,” he mutters under his breath as he watches Murdock move in bursts of movement almost too fast too track, utilising the Hunter’s ever disconcerting and ever annoying Blink jump. By the time he’s reached the entrance, Murdock’s already cleared out the rest of the first room, and Frank’s left with no alternative but to follow him inside, deeper into the dark belly of the building.

 

In fact, it’s Frank who struggles to keep up.  After they clear out the first couple of rooms of the straggling bands of Fallen Vandals and Dregs, they’re left with no choice but to head down the stairs, down into the warren-like mess of tunnels and caves that the Hive have created under the place. It’s dark here below, with the thin beam of his helmet-torch the only light to guide him, other than the dim, ghostly light of bioluminescent fungi that clings to the walls, and the eeirie glow of Acolyte eyes appearing out of the shadows as they venture further in.

He’s out of his element, down here in the cramped confines, forced to operate mostly blind. All he can do is keep his aim steady and try not to trip, letting Murdock take lead. The other man moves through the darkness silently, like he’s part of it, moving with an uncanny confidence and surety as they progress deeper inside. Frank’s worked with the Hunter before, begrudgingly, and he knows the rumours. Still, he wonders if it’s really true that it’s a blind man guiding him through the maze of the Hive’s lair, and if so, how it is the man navigates.

It seems ridiculous, yet it’s not with sight that Murdock senses the presence of something in the tunnel ahead of them. The Hunter stops so abruptly that Frank almost runs into the back of him. Murdock turns slightly, towards Frank, and says in an undertone, “Thrall ahead. Just beyond the turn.”

Frank narrows his eyes, but doesn’t question how Murdock knows, just pulls a grenade from a pouch and moves past, warning Murdock to stay back with a restraining hand on the man’s chest.

He turns the corner and tosses the grenade into the cluster of Thrall, bone white creatures with too long, spindly limbs and knife-sharp claws, before noticing, too late, the sickly glow of some other grotesquerie. “Cursed Thrall,” is all the warning he has time for, as he turns and squeezes his eyes shut.

The force of the grenade’s explosion compounded with that of the cursed Thrall slams him into the rocky wall of the tunnel. The bright, magnesium-white light as the gases within the deformed body of the creature ignite sears his vision even through his visor and tightly screwed shut eyelids.

“Frank?”

It must be the ringing in his ears that’s making him think that’s anxiety or concern in Murdock’s voice. “I’m fine,” he grits out, getting to his feet, “let’s keep moving.”

“Sure,” Murdock agrees quickly, too agreeably, “just take a minute to catch your breath -”

“I said, I’m fine. You don’t need to coddle me, Murdock,” Frank says curtly, blinking as his vision clears, for all the good it does him. “Now lead the way, damn it.”

“Sure,” Murdock says again, but there’s an uncertainty to the response that replaces the normal smug arrogance that so grates on Frank’s nerves. Frank frowns and actually looks at Murdock, tilting his head so that the torchlight falls directly on the man’s helmet. It’s impossible to gauge any emotion through the helmet, of course, but he spots the way Murdock tilts his head and shakes it, like a dog trying to get water out of its ears. In that moment, some of Frank’s private suspicions about Murdock’s abilities are confirmed.

“Cursed Thrall have your radar on the blink?” he asks bluntly.

Murdock’s head jerks up so fast he almost brains himself on the wall, and Frank can feel the sudden alarm and suspicion radiating off the other man as his body tenses. “...yes,” he admits finally, muscles slowly relaxing though he still holds himself warily, like he’s waiting for Frank to do something.

Frank grunts at the confirmation and moves past Murdock again. “Fine,” he says, “I’ll lead for now.” He doesn’t bother to look back and check Murdock’s reaction to his own non-reaction, just moves forward once more into the dark.

 

It takes about ten minutes for Murdock’s hearing to fully recover, or at least until the man pushes past him without comment to resume the lead. Until then, their progress is almost painfully slow, Frank methodically sweeping each step with the light of his torch before moving forward. As much as he hates to admit it, it was lucky to run into Murdock. Alone, it could have taken him hours to get as far as they have. They move forward in silence, but the next stretch of corridor is completely empty, and in the brief calm, Murdock asks, “So, you’re not going to ask how it works?”

Frank doesn’t make Murdock clarify what he’s talking about. He shrugs, though aware the gesture is pointless, and says, “Figure it’s none of my business.”

“Well, you’re right. It’s not,” Murdock says. There’s a pause, and then he adds, “Really, though? You’re not curious?”

Frank huffs out a noiseless laugh, briefly amused by the fact that Murdock’s pride seems almost wounded by his own lack of interest. “Really, Murdock, I don’t care.”

Murdock makes a noise, and seems like he’s going to try and continue the conversation, but just then they reach the end of the corridor and all thought of anything except what lies ahead dies out. Unlike the previous tunnels, this one leads out into a huge, cavernous space.It’s better lit than the rest of the journey has been, as well as less crowded, light spilling in from a gap in the far distant roof overhead. It’s disorientating to realise that at some point the tunnels must have started leading back up, towards the surface.

“You sure we’re going the right way?” Frank asks, but before Murdock can reply, his question is answered for him by the entrance of Omnigul.

She appears suddenly, in a poisonous cloud of poisonous swirling darkness. Frank doesn’t have to try and match her to the description given by Eris - he knows with absolute certainty who she is as soon as he sees her.

“Omnigul,” Frank snaps in warning, firing off a shot. The bullet slams into her, jerking her back in the air a couple feet, and Frank is grimly pleased. If he can shoot it, he can kill it. Any superstitious fear her supernatural appearance might have conjured is vanquished, and he settles into the familiar fighting mindset. Beside him, Matt tenses, ready to spring forward into the fight, but it is then that Omnigul screams.

It’s an unworldly shriek that tears right through him, turning even his steady nerve to fear for the duration of the sound. But then the last echo fades, and her minions descend, scores and scores of Thralls and Acolytes and even the gigantic, monstrous Knights, rushing out of the shadows and down towards them. Grimly, Frank steadies his grip on his gun, and prepares to fight. It’s not until he hears the pained gasp and muffled thump as Murdock falls to his knees that he realises not everyone has recovered from her scream.

Swearing, he glances at the oncoming horde, then at Murdock, incapacitated, and makes the split-second decision. He hauls Murdock off the ground, cursing at the man until he gets on his feet, then drags Murdock back, back, away from the coming storm. There’s some rusty, long-abandoned scaffolding to the side, and Frank manages somehow to get Murdock and himself up it and off the ground. Just in time. The ground turns to a swarming mass of thrall, their bony claws flashing in front of them as they surge mindlessly forward. Any respite that the higher ground offers can only be temporary, Frank thinks, a thought that’s immediately confirmed as one of the Knights roars and hurls a blast of Arc energy at them. The white-blue light sizzles through the air towards them, and Frank turns automatically, taking the brunt of the blast on his back and shielding Murdock. He grits his teeth at the impact, at the pain that jolts through him, but the tougher, heavier armour of a Titan is much better optimised to take this kind of punishment than the comparatively flimsy and lightweight armour of the Hunter. Still, he can’t take much more of that kind of damage. He has to get Murdock back on his feet.

“Murdock,” he shouts, over the noise of the Hive and of weapons firing, “Murdock!” He shakes the man ungently, trying to rouse the Hunter from his catatonic slump. “Damnit,” he growls, twisting to turn and throw another grenade down into the mass of writhing Thrall. It scatters them, earning him another precious few seconds. He turns back to Murdock and shakes him again, “I will leave you, Hunter.”

Murdock finally reacts, straightening up and removing his hands from where they’d been pressed against the sides of his helmet, over his ears. “I told you,” he says raggedly, “just try and keep up.”

It’s a pale imitation of his normal confidence which borders on arrogance, but it’s better than nothing. Frank’s mouth twitches upward in brief satisfaction, but there’s no time to spare on any kind of congratulations, even if Frank were the type given to that kind of thing. “Good,” he says shortly instead, “time to make good on your word.” With that final piece of advice, he turns away to take a running jump down into the fight, hitting the ground with the force of a small earthquake, shockwaves rippling out from the epicentre of his point of impact.

Time passes, Frank has no idea how much. His only measurement is the amount of Hive he takes down. The Hive are relentless, single-minded and fearless in the way only creatures born of death can be. But he was born from death too, or at least remade by it, moulded from the dead particles of his former self. The only difference is he’s smarter, doesn’t need some bitch Wizard and her death-magic to direct him to fight. He battles, pressing grimly, inexorably forward, holding his ground the way only a Titan can, while around him, Murdock moves, darting between Hive, blades flashing in the shadows, as he moves in deadly dance. Frank snorts. It’s showier than Frank’s fighting style, but then, that’s Hunters for you.

Now and then Omnigul lets out another bone-chilling scream, to summon yet more minions of darkness. Frank notes the shudder that wracks Murdock, the way he falls back, and each time Frank prepares himself to watch Murdock fall, pulled under by the rising tide of darkness, but each time, Murdock pulls himself through, somehow managing to stay aloft. He can’t help but be distantly impressed.

Finally, they fight themselves to the top of the room. Frank downs the last Knight with a round from his shotgun; the knight implodes, like some hollow clay golem, bits of detritus pinging against Frank’s armour harmlessly. He stops, takes a pause to breathe. Round the corner, waits Omnigul, and yet more Hive, but for now there’s nothing attacking. Murdock’s by his side, and Frank can see his chest rise and fall as he pants. His armour is torn and dented, his cloak torn and stained with his own blood. The fight has been harder on him than on Frank. “Can you go on?” Frank asks, turning to look at Murdock steadily.

“I’m fine,” Murdock snaps, on the defensive, “I told you, Castle, I can take care of myself.”

Frank glowers, because its obvious that Murdock’s not fine. “This isn’t the time for reckless heroics,” he says, spitting with word with disdain, “there’s no point you rushing in and getting yourself killed. Go. I can take care of her alone.”

Murdock laughs sharply, humourless. “Your concern is touching,” he says, moving past Frank without a backwards glance, “but its unnecessary.” And then he’s gone, blinking forward as he darts round the corner and into the waiting army.

“Damn it, Murdock -” Frank cuts off the curse, and follows him, right into the depths of hell it seems.

It’s overwhelming. Thrall constantly rush him, their cursed brethren lurking in the crowds, now and then exploding in a sudden burst of light and noise. A poisonous miasma fills the air, clouding his vision and slowing his limbs with a deadly torpor. Knights, Acolytes and Wizards are everywhere, at every turn a new enemy to fight. It’s impossible odds, so Frank loses himself in the moment-to-moment rush of the fight, taking each enemy on one at a time, not stopping to think about how many more remain or flinching as the next enemy takes its place. And through it all, Omnigul floats up above, at the centre of it all, her tattered robes fluttering in the putrid breeze.

The noise, the roar, the shrieks, the screams. It’s deafening, disorientating. The explosions and bolts of magic send him reeling. He wonders how the hell Murdock is managing to stay alive. Through the fighting, he catches glimpses of the other man, as he weaves his way in between the hordes. In the flickering, unnatural light he looks truly demonic, and a long-forgotten part of Frank, the religious part that died when he learnt there was no such thing as resting in peace, at least not for him, that part recoils.

Finally, he kills his last Thrall, turns to take on the next enemy and is met only by empty space. Omnigul, retreating higher, is the only enemy left alive. They’ve cleared the room.

“Now!” Murdock yells, voice hoarse with strain, and Frank doesn’t need any further prompting. He slings his heavy weapon from his back and unloads. She screeches in fury, and turns to pelt him with magic, but he doesn’t retreat, not yet, just holds himself as steady as he can under the onslaught. He can see Murdock doing the same from his side, and for a moment he thinks they’ve got her, but then the noisy rattle of his machine-gun cuts out as the ammo runs dry and he’s left fruitlessly squeezing down on the trigger. Cursing, he swiftly swaps it for his handgun, but in the brief cessation of fire, Omnigul recovers, draws herself up and screams, one final time.

Frank sees more Thrall in the distance, rushing down the dark tunnels that feed into this room and swears, then braces himself. He plans to go down fighting. But then that horrendous scream cuts off, abruptly silenced, and he turns, stunned, to see Murdock’s arc-blades ripp through Omnigul. He just blade-danced a Wizard, that’s - “ -   a stupid stunt, damn it,” he says, throwing himself forward. But it worked. Omnigul is dead, nothing more than a pile of rag and bone on the floor as the dark magic that filled her dispels. Murdock staggers, the bright light that coursed through him flickering out as he falls to his knees once more.

“I did it,” he says, dragging off his helmet to look up and through Frank in dazed victory. His eyes gaze sightlessly up, and he licks the blood off his split bottom lip, then says, “I killed her. I killed Omnigul.”

“Yeah, good job,” Frank says dismissively, grabbing Murdock and hefting him up onto his feet. “You killed the fucking bitch. Let’s not celebrate yet.”

“What? Why not?” Murdock demands, scowling petulantly and leaning heavily against him. That last supercharge took all he had.

Frank doesn’t bother to reply, just drags Murdock towards the exit, aware they don’t have long before -

“ - oh,” Murdock says, as the Hive once more flood the room. He starts to move faster under his own volition. “Perhaps we should leave.”

“No shit,” Frank says drily, and then they run.

 

 

 


End file.
